


the wolf at the door

by versigny



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Dark, Drabble, F/M, Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/versigny/pseuds/versigny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He only howls for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wolf at the door

He sits alone in a small room. There are no windows or doors. He cannot remember the last time he smelled the sunlight.

Everything tastes like dust.

There is melancholy in his bones busting open, marrow reforming like moonlight on tree limbs. Every inch of him aches to cough up blood, but it all curdles in his stomach, and the low, deep groan of agony that came from his chest had dully become more of a musical, desolate whine. His spine decouples. His fingers crack, bend, go rigid, crack, extend. And then, after an eternity, his eyes are no longer rolling back in his head.

The world is the color of things he cannot speak of, and his breaths come in throaty, raspy pants. It is night. There are stars and a circle of pale perfection that makes him ache to move.

So he does.

Running turns into galloping. He is larger than any wolf should be, and his mane gleams a lurid black dappled under the heavens as he bolts through the mulch and trees. There are eight rabbits near by, six owls within ten miles, and a sweet scent he cannot place so he follows like a carrot on a string.

Without any concept of time, Wonwoo threads the trail until he finds it. It is a meager cabin, stiff and hardy, made of wood and with soft firelight coming through the glass. Like it was full of lightning bugs.

There is a heartbeat, too.

Silent as the dead, Wonwoo trots up to the front door. He has not forgotten his manners. And he lingers at the door, mane bristling and swaying in the evening’s cold breeze, waiting. Waiting.

Waiting.

He growls from deep in his gut – a rumbling, lullaby of a snarl like music – and the heartbeat skips. The scent still collars him and mesmerizes him.

He can wait forever, if he must.

But he won’t have. The door opens, slowly and tentatively, and when your eyes meet his they widen and dilate and Wonwoo tilts his head with almost fondness. You smell like his. You smell like home.

 _Let me in,_ he thinks, and your heart is racing like his own, and it makes him smile. _I won’t eat you. Not like that._

Your face warms at the sentiment, and with a harsh nuzzle of his nose against your palm, you step out of the way and invite the wolf inside. The door shuts behind his long, thick tail.

It is a cold winter. It isn’t the worst time to be in love and with company.

His teeth are showing as he curls up by the fire – an oversized lapdog the color of a galaxy.

 _Come sit_ , he croons.

It’s warm there, and he is almost certainly soft.

It is a cold winter. Wonwoo won’t let you say no.


End file.
